


You Make Me Mellow

by ilikeyouxactually



Category: Rocketman (2019)
Genre: Abusive Relationship, Alcohol Abuse, Drug Abuse, Elton is hurting, John is actually caring and tries to help him, John takes care of him, M/M, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-06-24 08:07:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19719628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilikeyouxactually/pseuds/ilikeyouxactually
Summary: Numb. That’s how Elton needed to feel. It was easier to feel numb than to feel anything else.Elton is hurting, and John is there to care for him.





	You Make Me Mellow

**Author's Note:**

> Listen. This is purely fiction. Fiction based on the movie, not real people. I do not mean any disrespect. I also do not like John Reid’s character. He is an absolute asshole who played a major part in destroying Elton. However, before their relationship went to complete shit, I definitely think there might have been times when he could still be tender and loving with Elton. 
> 
> Don’t come at me for this. And no, I don’t condone or romanticize abusive relationships. I’m simply writing for my own pleasure, as a means to help me deal with my own emotions.
> 
> Please enjoy and feel free to follow me on tumblr @ ilikeyouxactually

Numb. That’s how Elton needed to feel. It was easier to feel numb than to feel anything else.

The pianist was currently slumped in an overly large arm chair situated in the corner of his bedroom. A sky blue silk robe draped over his shoulders, wearing only briefs and a string of pearls. Even though he was indoors, a pair of darkened sunglasses rest on the bridge of his nose.

It was nearing evening, and Elton couldn’t even remember the last time he ate. He had been filling himself with alcohol and pills all day, trying to drown out his thoughts and make them disappear. A whisky glass was loose in his hand, resting on the arm of the chair. He twirled it around lazily, watching the liquid slosh around, nearly spilling over the edge—but not quite. 

John was sure to return to his home any moment. 

The thought made his stomach clench. Mixed emotions. Happy but also terrified. Things had been less than pleasant with John as of late. His manager was clearly under stress, booking show after show after show, scheduling time in the studio, producing new songs for albums, setting up photo shoots, sending them off to parties. It was a lot. Elton knew how hard John worked, even admired him for it. But when John was under stress, he had a bad habit of taking it out on Elton. 

Sometimes he would yell and scream at him. Telling him how selfish and lazy he had been, only thinking of himself and his disgusting self-indulgent behaviors, and not focusing on the work. Elton had been focusing on the music and shows. Probably too much. 

On the rare occasion that John was _really_ mad, he sometimes hit Elton. Slapped him around, even kicked him in the stomach once as a means to try to get him to snap out of whatever depressive episode he had been in.

Elton realized it was wrong, but he couldn’t let John go. John had been the only one to show him any kind of compassion and affection. He had been the only one to ever make him feel wanted, truly wanted. And despite the fights and hurtful words, John was still there. He would still on occasion take Elton in his arms and console him.

As the months went on, John had started distancing himself from Elton. He attempted the excuse of “we need to do this for publicity sake, think of your career.” Elton supposed John was right. But with the growing distance, Elton was sure John was seeing other people to fill the void that he had created. The thought made him sick, he downed the remainder of bitter dark liquid from his glass, unsure of what it even was. It burned his throat, stinging all the way down his chest before reaching his stomach. 

Elton pushed himself off the chair, willing himself to the bathroom attached to his room, feet dragging across the carpet below him. He dodged the coffee table that was littered with empty bottles of alcohol along with several tipped over bottles of pills. Had he taken any? He stopped dead in his tracks. Looking down at the scattered multi-colored capsules, contemplating. Before he could reach for them, his stomach churned, making him lurch for the bathroom.

The man hauled himself over to the toilet, shaking as he emptied the contents in his stomach, tears streaming down his face. The hot acid burned his throat much more than the alcohol. It gave him a weird feeling of relief. Like maybe he actually deserved to suffer and feel this pain. Once he was relieved, he sat on the icy tiles beneath him, legs spread open lazily. He took several deep breaths, attempting to control his body shaking helplessly. 

He peered up over the rim of his glasses, staring into the mirror across the room. The sight of himself alone made him want to vomit again. His eyes dragged over his reflection, taking in every feature. His skin was pale and washed out from having been sick. Hair was beginning to thin, just as his mother predicted years ago when she let him get his hair cut like Elvis. “Enjoy it while it lasts,” she had said. 

His gaze traveled down, his chest, covered with a small patch of hair, his stomach poking out over the waist band of his briefs. Elton cringed, poking at the extra skin, face turning in disgust with himself. He never was the thin rockstar he dreamt of being. Continuing further down, he landed his gaze on his thighs. For as long as he could recall, he always hated them. They were always on the larger side, looking especially large with how he was currently slouched. Ripping his gaze away from himself, unable to stand the sight, he turned to the sink. Eyeing the razor blade that lay perfectly still, gleaming in the low light it practically screamed for him. 

With as much strength as he could muster, Elton reached for the razor, toying it around in his hands, staring longingly at the brand new, sparkling blade. He carefully dragged a finger tip over the edge just soft enough so it wouldn’t break the skin—but _God how glorious it would feel if it did_.

The sudden slam of a door snapped Elton out of his trance.

 _Must be John_. Elton cringed, just for a moment, bracing himself as the faint sound of footsteps coming up the stairs rang through his ears. 

“Elton?” John called for him, surprised to find his bedroom empty as it was where the singer normally spent his time.

“Bathroom,” Elton returned, words slurring off his lips. Not a moment later, John was stepping through the doorway in all his beautiful glory. A sharp pain hit Elton’s chest upon the sight of his manager—boyfriend. He was dressed in a finely pressed, _very_ well-fitting black suit. It showcased his beautifully broad shoulders perfectly, flat stomach, and no doubt those trousers were doing _wonders_ for his ass. 

“Elton,” John repeated, arms folding over his chest tightly. His tone was cold, gaze fixated on the razor currently in Elton’s hands.

Elton willed himself to meet John’s hard gaze, body beginning to tremble, unable to even imagine what John was going to say to him. Call him fat and disgusting? Tell him how he wreaks and that he’s nothing more than a waste of talent? Spit in his face and tell him he’d be better off killing himself? “Are you alright?” The question came as an utter shock.

“What?” He needed to make sure he actually heard that right. Was there actually a faint hint of concern in John’s voice just then, or was it the alcohol and pills making him delusional? John scoffed, bringing himself over to Elton. He removed the razor from Elton’s grasp, setting it back on the sink in its original home, ensuring it was as far from Elton as possible.

“I asked if you were alright,” John sat beside Elton, instantly bringing an arm up to sling around Elton’s shoulder. The sudden movement made Elton flinch. “I’m not gonna hurt you, darling,” John cooed. His thick Scottish accent made Elton swoon, his face suddenly regaining color again. Elton moved into John’s arm, nuzzling into his side, and clutching a tight fist around John’s suit jacket. “Love, why don’t you get cleaned up and I’ll fetch us some supper? Guessing you haven’t eaten much today?” Elton only nodded in response, making no attempt to let go of John—or whoever this new version of John was. What if later on things returned to how they had been? John calling him awful names, making him somehow feel even worse with himself, if that were even possible.

“Can’t we just stay like this a bit longer?” Elton hated how pathetic and needy he sounded. Like a child desperate for attention. Perhaps that’s all he really was. After all, his parents never gave him the love he needed.

John unwrapped himself from Elton, helping him to his feet. As delicately as he could, John brushed the robe from Elton’s shoulders, carefully taking the garment and strand of pearls in his hands. Next he removed the glasses from Elton’s face, setting them down on the sink with care. Elton could only stand there, waiting for John’s next move. He wasn’t expecting the other to return with a tight arm around his waist, holding him close before pressing a tender kiss to Elton’s cheek. Elton melted into the touch, grabbing onto John as if worried he might fall over from the sudden affection.

“Take a quick shower, darling. Let me take care of you, alright?” John planted a small kiss to Elton’s forehead before leaving him alone once again in the bathroom. Only this time, Elton couldn’t help but bask in the overwhelming feeling of warmth. John really knew how to pick him right up.

By the time Elton had finished showering, his mind had become less fogged. The hot steam had seemed to clear out his head of any dark, harmful thoughts—for the time being. All Elton could focus on was getting out of this shower as quickly as possible to return to John—a hopeful loving John like he by chance got to encounter earlier.

Once Elton was cleaned, he shrugged into a fresh pair of briefs, and slipping into his favorite deep ruby red robe. The smooth silk felt absolutely glorious on his clean skin. He even gave himself a spritz of some cologne. 

John had returned moments later with a tray of food, setting it on the coffee table that he had cleaned off while Elton was in the shower. He had removed his suit jacket and unbuttoned the top couple of buttons, exposing his chest hair. Elton’s breath caught in his chest.

“You smell lovely,” John purred, waltzing over to Elton, slinking an arm around his waist possessively. Elton’s body relaxed against John easily, comfortably. It was just like the first night when they met. The way they had moved together so effortlessly.

“I missed this John, I missed _us_ ,” Elton admitted sheepishly, burying his face in the crook of his lover’s neck, feathering delicate kisses along the exposed skin. John’s head instinctively tipped back, allowing Elton more access.

“I missed this too—so sorry, things just get so crazy sometimes...” John’s voice trailed off, the excuse was half-assed and Elton would probably call him out on it later, but now—now he was preoccupied with something greater. Elton dragged his lips over John’s throat, up to his ear where he nipped and nibbled at his earlobe, sending John into a fit of breathy sighs. Elton couldn’t help but smile at the reaction, needing more of it. He sucked John’s earlobe between his teeth, rolling the flesh slowly as he gave a harder bite, making John gasp and dig his fingers into Elton’s side. 

“John...” Elton moaned into the other’s neck, pulling away to meet John’s gaze. The two locked eyes. The overwhelming feeling of absolute need surged through Elton. He couldn’t recall that last time he and John had shared any romance whatsoever. Well, aside from the occasional quickie here and there to satiate both of their needs. It was typically just fast and needy, nothing more than sex. There was never any passionate, slow kissing. No cuddling afterwards which is what Elton _craved_ the most. Especially after their first night together, when they had basked in the early morning sunlight creeping in through the blinds. John had laid in Elton’s arms, the two covered in sweat, but too absorbed in the bliss to mind. 

Without skipping a beat, Elton wrapped his arms around John’s neck, connecting their lips in a deep kiss. John reciprocated, leaving Elton a bit stunned. A part of him had expected John to hesitate—maybe even pull away. Maybe this wasn’t what John wanted? Thankfully he was proven wrong as John moved a swift hand down Elton’s side, smoothing over the curve of his ass, giving a tight squeeze. Elton hummed into John’s lips, mouth opening just enough to allow John to slip his tongue inside, deepening the kiss. 

John guided the two over to Elton’s bed, the pair plopping down on the large, plush heap of blankets. They sank into the soft mattress, Elton lying back as John crawled on top of him, a devilish grin planted on his face. John wasted no time in reconnecting their lips, Elton working at the buttons on his shirt— _this needs to go_. His fingers fumbled, brain too fogged with need to properly undo the buttons. It was taking much too long. John’s lips moved over to Elton’s neck, sucking at that sweet spot just below his ear—the spot that made Elton’s toes curl and that was _it_. 

With a swift motion, Elton tore at John’s shirt, ripping it open hungrily. Buttons flew, the patter of them hitting the floor was drowned out by Elton’s moans.

“Needy are we?” John teased, raking his fingers down Elton’s side. “That shirt was expensive y’know.” Elton could hear the stupid smile on John’s face. His head fell back against the mattress, grabbing onto John’s hips, needing _somewhere_ to keep his hands steady.

“Fuck—I’ll buy ya a new one,” Elton barely got the words out, unable to focus on anything other than the way John’s mouth was working against his sensitive skin. John hummed into Elton, teasingly rocking his hips against Elton’s, making the other man shudder. “Fuck’s sake, John,” Elton grit his teeth, digging his nails deep into John’s sides, “quit the damn teasing,” Elton _begged_. Shamelessly. Once not that long ago, he had joked with John about not making him beg. But John had only become interested that night in trying as hard as he could to make him beg—it didn’t take much effort.

John placed his lips back to Elton’s, sucking at his bottom lip, rolling it gently between his teeth. Elton shuddered beneath him, raking his fingers along John’s exposed back. 

“Not teasing—taking care of you, just as promised,” John corrected, his voice so low and raspy, and that combined with his already thick accent made every nerve in Elton’s body _shiver_. Elton could only nod in response, fast and desperate, also trying to not cry because _fuck_ if he could remember the last time John took care of him. The sudden stiffness of Elton below him made John pull back, scanning Elton’s face with concern. “You alright, darling?” Elton bit his bottom lip, the skin still a bit tender from John’s kisses. “Elton,” John spoke again, Elton clearly getting lost in his thoughts.

“Sorry,” Elton trailed off, sniffling as a single tear began to make it’s way down his cheek. John carefully wiped it away, replacing the tear with a gentle kiss. “I just—I thought you didn’t love me.” Getting those words out was something Elton never thought he would manage. Confessing his feelings wasn’t a strong suit. Since childhood he was taught to bottle them up. _Don’t be soft_. John shook his head, taking Elton’s face in his strong, confident hands. 

“Don’t you ever think like that,” John insisted, “you are so special to me, Elton. So fucking special,” John feathered more kisses over Elton’s face, hugging him close. As badly as Elton needed John and was so fucking desperate for him, he couldn’t have been happier to just lay here in his arms. Being reassured. “You’re so brilliant, such a great piano player, and Christ your voice puts angels to shame.” John’s sweet words filled Elton with warmth, more tears came to his eyes. Only this time they were happy tears. Such happy tears that he was glad to cry. John stroked a hand over Elton’s head and down his face, resting firmly at his jaw. “Never question yourself again, alright?” Elton could only nod in response, hurriedly grabbing for John’s face to smash their lips together once more in a slow, burning kiss.

Elton suddenly flipped them over, propped up on his elbow at John’s side. Brushing his fingers over John’s broad chest and down his stomach. 

“Well, enough of this. Shall we continue, or do you ‘spose we should eat the dinner you were so kind to make for us?” Elton’s fingers danced at the waistband of John’s trousers, the tips just barely slipping underneath.

“Foods probably cold by now,” John acknowledged, breath hitching and laying perfectly still as he allowed Elton to continue.

“Guess the food will wait then.”


End file.
